


Liminal Spaces

by iamsomebody



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Ballet AU, College AU, M/M, Other, Photographer AU, phichit and chris don't really talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9837638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsomebody/pseuds/iamsomebody
Summary: Yuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov are both master degree-seeking students in New York who meet one night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this as a gift fic for a friend of mine on a YOI discord server, and practiced with writing a one-shot differently than I have before. Not sure if I like it yet or not, but here.

_La Fin._

 

A heavy feeling sank into Yuri’s stomach, a wave of distress washing over his body. 

 

It felt as if he had just seen Victor for the first time all over again, but it wasn’t. It was so far from that. 

 

His mind was knocked into a reckless emotional flurry, tears brimming cinnamon colored eyes as he figured out what to do next. Yuri needed to memorize every detail, right here, right now.

 

 _Just in case,_ he thought, the words stinging as they emerged in his mind.

 

His arms reached out for Victor, Yuri placing one hand on both of Victor’s shoulders, holding him in place. There was something desperate about his grip. He needed to know that Victor was there with him at that moment. He needed confirmation that he was tangible and physical because in a matter of minutes he wouldn’t be. In a matter of minutes the last few years would all feel like an overexposed photo Yuri just couldn’t print right. Surprise flashed across Victor’s eyes as his grip tightened, but it soon faded to saddened realization. His lips forced themselves to twist into a quivering smile, a last feeble attempt to comfort Yuri. The sight caused the tears Yuri was surprisingly able to hold back until that point to spill, dripping down his cheeks. 

 

He needed to memorize everything. 

 

He needed to remember the way his lover’s disheveled silver hair seemed to shine in the fluorescent airport lighting as their bodies moved closer to one another, trying to make any space dividing them disappear, fearing the space that was to come. He needed to carve into marble the way Victor’s face buried itself in Yuri’s shoulder, seeking safe-haven. He needed to record the tender whimper that slipped from the man he was clutching onto, both their bodies shaking lightly in one another’s embrace. Yuri’s hands grasped at the back of Victor’s coat, searching for a way to make them stay together like this for an eternity. 

 

Yet it was fruitless. 

 

Victor pulled away first, moving one of his hands to his eyes to wipe away any visual residue of his heartache. A small chuckle slipped from his lips, the sound echoing in Yuri’s ears. 

 

“We must look like a mess.” He commented. His voice was hoarse, his accent seeping more evidently through the words. 

 

Yuri laughed, the sound strange to him at a moment like this. Everything seemed strange. 

 

“Yuri?”

 

“Yes?” He responded, rubbing his own eyes. 

 

Victor’s eyes shifted to Yuri’s lips, his tender voice shaky once it passed his lips.

 

“I want to marry you.”

 

Yuri’s eyes widened, any tears he had left emerging, flushing down his cheeks. The sentence reverberated in his mind, his hands shaking. 

 

_I want to marry you._

 

“Victor.” He managed to utter, the other chuckling lightly in response. His blue eyes were glossy yet again.

 

“If I had known that would have made you cry, I wouldn’t have said it.”

 

Yuri scoffed before playfully punching his lover in the arm. 

 

“They’re good tears…I think.”

 

“You _think_.”

 

Another brief shared moment of silence, Yuri gathering any strength he had left him in to respond. He was exhausted. His bones felt as if they were about to break, every muscle in his body sore from having to keep him up-right while his mind was dancing on the edge of losing it. 

 

“I want to marry you too.” Yuri whispered, his voice giving out as he raised a hand to cup his face, trying to mute the quiet sob ripping through any composure he had mustered up. Victor moved to hold him, running one of his hands through his dark hair, rubbing gentle circles throughout his scalp. 

 

“Why are you crying, my love?”

 

Yuri didn’t respond. 

 

He was crying at the loss of possibility. At the loss of promise. His heart was entirely devoted to the human being holding him, yet he couldn’t hold onto him. He knew it wasn’t any of their faults, just a cruel twist of fate, but the pain was sharp, acutely striking at his heart. Every breath he took felt like needles pushing further and further into the vital organ. Victor couldn’t marry him. Yuri was to go back to Japan to his family once he graduated this semester, and Victor would have to take care of both his grandfather and brother now, his academic life on hold indefinitely.

 

Slowly, the two became aware of the reality around them as the voice of an attendant began calling the boarding groups for Victor’s flight. They let go once more of one another, their eyes gazing at each other’s faces. A blush resembling Yuri’s own had settled beneath Victor’s tired eyes, the tip of his pale nose reddened. 

 

Longing. Grief. Affection. Frustration.

 

Yuri’s senses were so flooded with emotions he was surprised he hadn’t slipped into a panic attack yet. But now was not the time. He had to be focusing every second left on Victor. 

 

Finally, his group was called. 

 

Yuri thought his heart would come to a stop. 

 

“I-I love you.” He stammered out, his words feeling limited. Counted. Timed.

 

“I love you too.” Victor replied.

 

“I’ll call you the moment I land.” The Russian continued. 

 

Yuri nodded, watching as Victor bent over to pick up the duffle-bag on the floor. He was gripping onto it tightly, his hands shaking.

 

“If you don’t answer, I’ll leave a message. I know you like sleeping in late and its already la-“

 

“Victor.”

 

“You have a lot of work to do so I understand if you go home and just knock out.“

 

Yuri knew this was how Victor dealt with things, he’d talk. He’d talk and talk until something in his mind would click and make sense.  But the two of them separating, living in different countries, didn’t make sense. No matter how many words slipped from his lips, this wouldn’t make sense.

 

“I’ll be awake. Okay? I’ll be awake, I’ll answer.”

 

Victor nodded solemnly. The next group had already been called. 

 

“You have to go.” 

 

“I know.”

 

“I don’t want you to.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Victor.” 

 

Yuri tasted the name on his tongue, letting it dissolve and dissipate into his very being. The two syllable word had engrossed him. It had engulfed his senses completely. Victor was Victor. Victor was faint kisses and light touches in the morning before slipping out of bed. Victor was strongly scented tea on rainy afternoons, Yuri’s nose crinkling from the hefty aromas. Victor was the thick Russian accent he’d fall asleep to at night, any night terrors not daring to stir him from his slumber. Victor was cheap wine and warm words, glossy eyes meeting with loud laughter. Victor was the home he had found away from Japan.

 

Victor was his.

 

And Victor was leaving. 

 

Yuri suddenly found himself pressing his lips against the others, not caring for any prying eyes passing by. Victor kissed him back deeply, taking a deep, shaky breath once they separated. Silently, Victor turned and walked to the gate, pausing at the line dividing the airport’s floor and the corridor guiding him to the airplane. The last few passengers boarding walked briskly past him, ignoring his struggle. He turned to glance at Yuri, their eyes meeting one another’s instantly. Victor tried to smile for Yuri. He begged for his cheeks to pull and for his muscles to contract to twist his lips, but it was useless. He felt tears tumble down his cheeks again and turned, stalking off into the corridor. 

 

It took Yuri nearly five minutes to move.

 

By the time he was outside the airport flagging down a taxi, the sun had begun to rise. The inside of the cab was muggy, his head lolling back onto the edge of the worn-out seat, his forehead slightly pressing against the foggy window. The condensation slicked to the outside of the window made the street-lights they raced by blur, hazy green spots turning yellow and then red. 

 

Once he was inside his apartment, it hit him.

 

It _really_ hit him. 

 

The space still smelled of the two of them, traces of Victor’s cologne from when he got ready earlier that morning taunting Yuri, drifting around him and guiding him to their, _no,_ his bed. He collapsed onto the unmade mattress. The sheets seemed to pool around him endlessly, sucking him into the cold fabric. The sun had climbed its way up beyond the buildings, strays of golden light cutting through and in between the skyline, shining through Yuri’s bedroom window. The light fell on Yuri’s face, and he shunned away from it, wrapping himself up in the sheets. Victor was supposed to be asleep beside him, the sunlight dreamily lighting up disheveled, silver hair instead of blank, empty sheets. 

 

It all felt so wrong. 

 

His room felt several degrees colder, his bed felt uneven and uncomfortable. His own skin didn’t feel right wrapped around his bones. Everything felt too tight, ready to suffocate him. He wanted this feeling to go away. It hurt too much. It _hurt_.

 

Impulsively, Yuri reached for the pillow Victor had slept on the night prior and pushed it against his face roughly, a scream erupting from his lungs as the scent of cologne infiltrated his senses. 

 

_____

 

“How many photos of me have you taken?” 

 

Yuri found himself giggling at the abrupt question, rolling over on his mattress to glance at Victor. By now, Yuri had shed his shirt, the wine settling in his stomach making his body too warm. His boyfriend was sitting a few feet away from their bed, his back pressed into the wall as he skimmed through boxes of photographs Yuri had printed over the last two years. 

 

“I don’t keep count.”

 

Victor laughed at the response, pausing looking through the photos to sip from the glass of wine by his side. Both of them had decided to spend Victor’s last night in the states at home, surrounded by wine and food that definitely qualified as guilty pleasures. Although the alcohol had made their words slur and their bodies feel warm, the pair was aware of the melancholy looming over their tender moments. 

 

“Well, it’s a lot.” Victor continued, stopping on a particular portrait of him. 

 

It was a color print of him naked, resting his head against the window beside their bed, light  peaking through the nearby buildings falling over Victor’s hair and bare chest. Yuri had taken the photo far enough that Victor’s entire body was visible, his legs stretched out towards the lens lazily. His eyes were half-lidded, making contact with the photographer, instead of the camera. 

 

“Did you show this in a critique?”

 

“I don’t know, which one is it?”

 

Victor lifted the photo, Yuri squinting to see which one it was. He honestly forgot where he placed his glasses.

 

“Oh, _that_ one.” 

 

“I’m nude.” 

 

Yuri snorted, “I know. I took the photo.” 

 

“Did you show it?” Victor asked again, tilting his head as he continued to look at the photo. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

There was a brief pause.

 

“But I look so _bad.”_

 

_“Victor.”_

 

With that, Yuri slipped off the bed, keeping the bottle of wine he had next to him on the mattress close. He wavered over to Victor, dropping to the floor beside him, resting his head against the other’s shoulder once he was sitting. He lifted the wine bottle to his lips, his nose scrunching ever so slightly as he gulped down the liquid. A small smile curved Victor’s lips at the sight. 

 

“Why do you think you look bad?”

 

“My hair looks greasy, I’m almost blinkin-.” Victor started, but found himself almost immediately shushed by Yuri lifting a hand to his chin and turning his face towards him, pressing their lips together lazily. The kiss was gentle and slow, Yuri pulling away to speak. 

 

“Stop it.” 

 

“Stop what?” Victor asked, turning and maneuvering himself so that he had one leg stretched out on either side of Yuri. Yuri took it as invite, scooting closer to his boyfriend, letting his arms wrap around his neck loosely. The two reeked of cheap wine, but it was welcoming. 

 

“Stop saying stuff like that, you _don’t_ look bad.” 

 

Victor scoffed.

 

“I’m serious.” Yuri continued, pressing their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, his finger tips feeling fuzzy as they played with a few strands of hair on the nape of Victor’s neck. 

 

“Are you okay?” Victor asked, noticing the way that Yuri’s eyes squeezed shut, his lips pursed. 

 

“I’m really drunk.”

 

Victor’s smile turned into a hearty laugh, placing the photo in his hand down and pushing the boxes of prints away. He wrapped his arms around Yuri’s lower back, holding him gingerly. Yuri responded by moving his head, nuzzling his face into the crook where Victor’s shoulder met his neck. He muttered something, the words non-understandable to Victor’s ears. 

 

“You’re mumbling.” Victor commented. 

 

Yuri repeated what he had said, the words still mumbled together. The older man rolled his eyes lovingly. 

 

“Still mumbling.” 

 

Yuri sighed, pressing a singular kiss into Victor’s skin. 

 

“I don’t want you to leave.” 

 

There was no way Victor didn’t hear the words this time. 

 

“I don’t want to leave either.” He replied, watching Yuri carefully as he propped himself up yet again, his arms once more snaking around Victor’s neck. Tender, pensive chocolate eyes held opposite icy, azure eyes as a silence settled in between one another. They remained positioned like that, the small apartment surrounding them fading out to nothing. 

 

However, Yuri tore himself away from the intimate moment, leaning over to reach for a film camera tucked closely to his bed. After having spent nearly every day together for the last two years, Victor had grown used to Yuri suddenly breaking a kiss or a conversation to take a picture. A few times it had irked Victor, but the feeling would disappear the moment he saw Yuri’s face hidden behind the camera, clear, bold letters spelling out “PENTAX” facing Victor instead. Yuri loved his work, and his work was on things he loved.

 

And Victor was one of those things. 

 

The thought triggered something deep inside Victor, his eyes suddenly growing watery. As Yuri turned the ring on the lens to focus, he noticed. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Yuri asked, lowering the contraption slightly, his eyes crinkling with concern. 

 

Victor let a breath out he didn’t realize he was holding and laughed forcefully.

 

“Nothing, I’m just thinking too much.”

 

“You can talk about it.” Yuri offered, ready to put down the camera. 

 

“It’s okay,” Victor replied, “take the picture you were going to take.” 

 

Yuri’s lips twisted into a unsatisfied line, the camera once again replacing his eyes reluctantly. Victor stared at the small machine, watching as Yuri pulled back the crank that he had learned was used to pull the film hidden inside. 

 

“I love you.” Victor stated, the words rolling off his tongue like honey but tasting bitter. How many more times would he be able to say to Yuri in person?

 

“I love you, too.” 

 

The sound of the camera’s shutter functioned like thunder in the small, quiet space, the noise ricocheting from one corner to another. Whatever had snapped within Victor continued to break as he watched Yuri tuck his camera away, the finality of the situation they were in present in Yuri’s movements to Victor. He watched, his eyes frantically attempting to memorize the way Yuri gingerly replaced the roll of film in the camera with a new roll. His eyes trailed from his working hands to his arm, slowly making their way to his shoulder and finally, face. He watched his body move, the tan skin gorgeous in the faint lamp light engulfing them. 

 

He felt the sensation of tears slowly tumble down his cheeks, raising a hand quickly to wipe them away. The realization that he was _crying_ for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few days _,_ something he was definitely not accustomed to, disturbed him. He felt weak. 

 

Yet he couldn’t stop. Before he could stand up and excuse himself to the bathroom, a sob had betrayed him, the sound violent as it broke through his lips. 

 

Immediately Yuri glanced at him, his hands leaving whatever they were busy fidgeting with and finding themselves on Victor. 

 

“I’m okay.” Victor meekly muttered, another sob causing him to shake. 

 

“Of course you are.” Yuri replied, snaking one arm around Victor’s waist, pulling him in tightly. His other hand nestled on the back of his head, caressing him lovingly. Victor surrendered to Yuri’s touch, letting his head rest below his chin. Tears continued to spill, dampening Yuri’s chest. 

 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you cry before.” 

 

Victor laughed, sniffling after as he nuzzled his face against Yuri’s skin.

 

“You’re horrible,” he stated, his lips brushing against Yuri’s salty skin. 

 

_____

 

 

“They can’t do anything.”

 

The words rolled off Victor’s tongue hopelessly, dreariness settling once more into the tight spaces between his bones. He threw his cell phone away from him, letting his body flop backwards onto the mattress as his hands moved to cover his face. 

 

Yuri felt helpless. 

 

“It isn’t your fault.” 

 

“I know it isn’t my fault,” Victor snapped, suddenly pulling himself forward, glaring at Yuri. 

 

Yuri was taken aback, his eyebrows furrowing. Victor took a deep breath before speaking again.

 

“That’s what makes this so hard. I feel so helpless.” Victor continued, Yuri stepping closer to him and sitting down beside him on the mattress. He took his hands into his, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of Victor’s hand. 

 

Victor had just finished speaking to the Assistant Artistic Director of the American Ballet Theatre and explained his situation. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. If Victor was still an active dancer by the time he came back to the United States, he was more than welcome to audition then. 

 

“I can’t even finish the semester, these last two years were for nothing.” Victor continued, exhaustion seeping into his words, his accent wrapping around the vowels more thickly than usual. He hadn’t slept for over four hours in the last few days. His usual composure was non-existent, his delicate silver hair straying in various directions as tears brimmed his light blue eyes.

 

It was tearing Yuri apart. 

 

“It’s out of your control, Victor.” 

 

“I don’t care, I hate this.” 

 

His voice cracked as he finished his simple statement, the tears of frustration he had managed to keep in check starting to spill over. Yuri quietly pulled him towards him, Victor instinctively nuzzling his face into the crook of Yuri’s neck. 

 

“I have to go back to Russia.”

 

“I know.”

 

It was the thought that had been plaguing the two of them since the night Victor received the phone call about his grandfather. Yuri held no resentment towards the fact that Victor had to leave, but that didn’t stop the almost paralyzing ache that had emerged in his chest that same night. 

 

Up until then, Victor’s younger brother, Yurio, was under their grandfather’s care. Now, with their grandfather in recovery, Victor had to fly over to take care of his brother and their grandfather. Yuri knew that this was indefinite. Even _if_ Victor were to come back to the United States once Yurio went off to his own university, Yuri wasn’t sure _he’d_ still be in the states. He was graduating in a month. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to stay in New York or move to another state, or even go back to Japan. The uncertainty of the situation is what caused him the most anxiety of all.

 

Victor pressed his lips against Yuri’s neck once more, one of his hands reaching for Yuri’s. He had stopped crying by now, a soft blush arising in his tired cheeks. 

 

What was certain was that Victor was with him now, and he was with Victor. 

 

_____

 

 

Yuri and Victor were a mere month from graduation. 

 

The two were holding a “graduation” party at Victor’s apartment, Yuri’s studio apartment not large enough for the amount of friends they had invited. Some of Yuri’s friends from his photography courses came, as well as his best friend Phichit. Friends Victor had made in his dance courses also came, as well as his close friend Chris. 

 

The atmosphere was light, the group huddled in the living room, circling a board game. Multiple bottles of wine were open and dispersed among the group, laughter and cheerful words sliding off their tongues easily. 

 

It was Yuri and Victor’s turn to move their piece on the board when Victor heard his phone ringing from the bedroom. The particular ringtone, a cat meowing, meant that his younger brother was calling. 

 

“I’ll be right back, play for us.” Victor directed, placing a quick kiss on Yuri’s cheek before excusing himself to the bedroom. 

 

Yuri listened and rolled the dice, a number six staring up at him before he leaned over to move their piece. Phichit and their friend Leo went together after, followed by two of Victor’s friends. Yuri glanced over his shoulder to the bedroom door, a bit worried over Victor. He quietly excused himself and wandered over to the room, his eyes resting on the back of Victor’s head once he closed the door behind him. Victor was sitting down on his bed, hunched over. Yuri quietly sat beside him, a tender expression placed over his features as he saw Victor’s pained expression. 

 

“Yurio, I have to go. I know, but I have to, okay? Just keep staying with Lilia for now.” 

 

Yuri could overhear what he believed was Victor’s younger brother’s voice on the phone before Victor murmured something in Russian and hung up 

 

“Is everything okay?” Yuri asked, inching a bit closer to him. Victor placed the phone down beside him, lowering his face into his hands. Yuri wrapped an arm around his shoulders, his other hand resting gently on one of Victor’s knees. 

 

“Victor, what’s wrong?” Yuri asked again. 

 

“My grandfather had a heart-attack. I have to go back to Russia.” 

 

____

 

 

It was the first semester to their last year. 

 

Victor had sent a text to Yuri that he was picking up some coffee for them both before heading over to visit him prior to his dance practice. Yuri, as always, was huddled up in the darkroom, a few of his classmates working around him. 

 

Victor walked in with a coffee cup in each hand, his eyes setting on the back of Yuri’s head as the man hunched over some newly developed negatives sprawled out on a light table.

 

“I’ll just leave your coffee here.” Victor said, placing one of the drinks down by Yuri’s backpack. 

 

“Thank you.” Yuri curtly replied, his attention refusing to become distracted. 

 

If he hadn’t known better, Victor might have been upset, but he had learned by now when Yuri was focused, he was _focused._ So, Victor took it as an opportunity to see the new photos he had been printing. He quietly neared the cork-board where test strips were pinned against, one of his hands running through his hair as he found Yuri’s test strips. 

 

Off colored portions of dancers Victor knew greeted his vision, their arms and legs strung out in nearly unbelievable, whimsical ways captured on paper. One test strip in particular showed one of Victor’s class mates tying their hair back before a performance, Yuri having been able to sneak backstage to leave some flowers for Victor. 

 

That’s when Victor saw it. A test strip hidden behind the others. He lifted one of his hands to it, carefully plucking it off the board. A nearly complete portrait of himself stared up at him, the captured Victor resting his head against the tiled wall of Yuri’s bathroom. His eyes were shut, hair wet and drawn back, as a few droplets of water were captured on his skin, trailing from his neck to his chest. A portion of his abdomen was visible before disappearing into the darkly print water of the bath tub. Victor couldn’t help but grin at the photo. 

 

He quietly maneuvered his way to Yuri after placing his coffee down, tapping him on the shoulder gently. 

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore yo-,” Yuri began, turning around to face his boyfriend only to be cut off with a kiss pressed onto his lips. When they each pulled back Yuri held a bewildered look on his face, Victor responding by holding up the strip. 

 

“Oh, _that.”_ Yuri sighed, taking the strip from Victor’s hands to continue judging it. 

 

“I love it.” Victor stated. Yuri’s heart nearly skipped a bit from the sheer fondness in the simple three words.

 

“It’s from when we bathed together.” Yuri explained, as if Victor didn’t remember. 

 

“I forgot you had taken a photo.” Victor replied. 

 

“I can give you the actual print? I don’t think I’m going to show it in class.”

 

“How come?” 

 

Yuri shrugged, the slightest twinge of embarrassment emerging in his eyes. 

 

“It feels too personal.”

 

“Well,” Victor started, pressing another warm, delicate kiss onto his lover’s lips, “Whether you decide to show it or not, I definitely want that print.” 

 

_____

 

 

“I’m _freaking_ out.” Yuri stated, both of his hands knotted in his hair. Victor watched with concerned eyes, unsure of what to do. It was March, and critiques and recitals were coming fast at the two of them. 

 

“If you’re freaking out, do you want to stay in and try to relax?”

 

“I _can’t_ stay in, Victor. The photographer is going to be there and my professor set up a meeting for us.” 

 

“Then go, your work is good and he’ll like it.”

 

“ _Ugh,_ you don’t get it.” Yuri complained, waving his hand frustratingly at Victor before walking away from his bedroom towards his kitchen. Victor followed, admittingly a bit wounded. 

 

“What don’t I get? I’ve been nervous before too, but you can’t just let your nerves control you.”  

 

Yuri shot him a _look_ before pulling out the wine bottle he had in his fridge, twisting off the cap and taking a gulp. 

 

“Yuri, you’re a good photographer. I think so, your professors have told you so. You can freak out but _go, моя любовь.”_

 

Yuri didn’t respond, but moved closer to Victor, reaching out for his hands. Victor lovingly accepted the motion, raising both of Yuri’s hands to his lips, pressing them against each of his knuckles. 

 

“I wish I felt like a good artist.” Yuri whispered. 

 

“I know, and I understand that.” 

 

And at heart, Victor did.

 

____

 

 

“Should I hide?” 

 

“Why?”

 

Yuri shrugged, “I don’t know if he knows about me or…us.”

 

“Don’t be silly, of course he does.”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes as Victor snuck an arm around his waist, pulling him in closer on Victor’s bed so that when he answered his brother’s face-time call, he’d be able to see the two of them. By now, Victor and Yuri had been an item for over four months, and with December nearing its end, it’d be four. 

 

“Is that him?” A thickly accented voice echoed out from the phone. 

 

“Mhmm.” Victor responded.

 

“Hi,” Yuri said, waving. 

 

“Hi.” Yurio replied dully. Yuri felt his heart sink, but Victor had warned him that Yurio would come off as cold initially. 

 

“Why are you aiming at the ceiling?” Victor asked, his eyes squinting at the phone screen. 

 

“Hold on, идиот.” 

 

“ _What did he say?”_ Yuri whispered. 

 

“He called me an idiot.” Victor casually explained, grinning once Yurio’s scowling face finally appeared on his phone.

 

“Has Yakov noticed the piercing yet?” He questioned, Yuri realizing that a stud was nestled into the side of Yurio’s nose. A week ago, Victor had received a snapchat from Otabek, one of his brother’s friend, showing Yuri smiling as his nose was pierced. 

 

“Not yet.”

 

Victor sighed, shaking his head. 

 

“ _Hey,_ at least I’m not hiding a дружок.” 

 

“I’m not _hiding_ him,” Victor argued, “I just haven’t _told_ Yakov yet.” 

 

“Whatever.”

 

There was a moment of silence before Yurio called out to Yuri. 

 

“Hey, _you.”_

 

“Yes?” Yuri responded, a bit nervous. Victor watched him through the camera, trying not to laugh. A _15_ year old was making Yuri nervous, how embarrassing. 

 

“Break Vitya’s heart and I’ll fly over _myself_ to break your cameras.” 

 

“Yurio!” Victor scolded, although his tone was definitely amused. 

 

Yuri couldn’t help but chuckle, which caused Yurio to become irritated. 

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“Nothing, it’s just sweet that you care about him so much.” Yuri explained, Victor quietly pressing a kiss to Yuri’s cheek after. 

 

“ _God,_ you guys are gross. I’m leaving.” 

 

“Bye, Yurio.” Victor responded, dragging out the ‘e’ in bye. 

 

“It was nice talking to you.” Yuri followed, Yurio responded with a scoff before hanging up the call. Victor put his phone down beside him before flopping back onto the bed, dragging Yuri down with him. The two settled against one another, Yuri resting his head against Victor’s chest, while Victor’s hands ran through his raven hair. 

 

“What he said was sweet.” Yuri commented. 

 

Victor simply hummed in response, his motions becoming lazy and his eyes growing heavy. The time difference between New York and Russia made it somewhat difficult to figure out calls, especially when it was currently 1 a.m. for Yuri and Victor, but 9 a.m. for Yurio.

 

“Goodnight, Victor.” Yuri mumbled, gently giving one squeeze around Victor’s waist. 

 

“Hm, доброй ночи.” 

 

Yuri’s lips coiled into a wisp of a faint smile, sleep slowly overcoming him.

 

 

____

 

“Did you enjoy the recital?”

 

Victor raised the coffee cupped in his right hand to his lips, watching as Yuri shivered, a breeze passing through the avenue they were walking down. It was finally beginning to feel like fall, the leaves on the trees changing colors while the temperature began to drop.

 

“I did, I’ve never been to an adult recital, just the ones I went to as a kid.”

 

“Some of the dancers messed up, but everyone was into it. The undergraduate program is good so far.” 

 

“Did you go to undergrad here?” Yuri asked, moving his hands to his pockets to warm them.

 

“No, I came to the U.S from Russia for higher education after my parents passed.”

 

Yuri stumbled, reaching out a hand to touch Victor’s elbow. 

 

“Wait, _what?_ How could you say that so casually?”

 

Victor furrowed his eyebrows in mild confusion, “My parents? Yuri, it’s okay. I came here to get away from it all, but I received some closure. My mother wanted me to pursue what I loved.”

 

“I’m still sorry.” 

 

Victor’s fingers silently reached out for Yuri’s now withdrawn hand, their fingers lacing smoothly. A slight rose-dusted blush appeared on both their cheeks, Victor squeezing Yuri’s hand tenderly once. 

 

“It’s okay. I still have my little brother and my grandfather.” 

 

“I didn’t know you had a sibling.” Yuri commented. 

 

“Mhm,” Victor responded, his free hand reaching into his pocket for his phone. He swiped it open before maneuvering into his photos, leaning in to show Yuri a photo of a laughing younger Victor with a frowning blonde-haired, green-eyed teenager.

 

“And that’s Yuri,” Victor chimed, “although we always called him Yurio for some reason.” 

 

“It looks like you two get along well,” Yuri teased. 

 

“We got a lot closer when our parents passed, to be honest. He’s a lot to handle.” 

 

“Well, he has a good older brother.” 

 

The deduction made Victor’s cheeks crack into a sweet laugh, the man raising Yuri’s hand to his lips to press a light kiss onto the skin. The pink on Yuri’s cheek grew, but he welcomed the warm sensation that had settled in his stomach. 

 

Victor and him had texted almost constantly for the last few weeks since they had met, and Yuri was surprised to find Victor waiting for him by darkroom before his dance practices. It didn’t come as a surprise when Victor invited him out to an _actual_ date instead of going to get coffee in between courses or seeing one another late at night. 

 

And for a first date, Yuri was beyond giddy. 

 

____

 

_Le début_

 

 

1:28 a.m. 

 

Yuri sighed, craning his neck to crack it, stretching his sore arms out behind his back. 

 

He had been working on photos since 6 p.m. He was surprised he hadn’t begun to go colorblind by now. When he started, the darkroom was filled, all seven rooms occupied. Now, he was the only student printing. It’s what he deserved for procrastinating on his photos for his first master’s critique. He heard the machine beep and went over to pick up his latest test strip, a piece of a portrait of his newly made friend Leo, before pinning it to the cork board placed in front of the bright lights hung from the ceiling. For his first semester at this school and his master’s degree, he had done a good job of socializing. 

 

He groaned before wiping at his eyes, the test strip clearly too yellow to be able to print a full-print. 

 

“I’m taking a break.” He said to himself, flicking the test strip out of frustration before walking out of the room. He leaned against the wall beside the entrance to darkroom, lost in his own thoughts. 

 

The distant sound of music interrupted the anxious, tangled mess of thoughts growing in his head, Yuri glancing down the hallway to see if he could find the source. The university he was attending had multiple buildings for art, but photography, dance and music were located in this particular building. Yuri had grown used to passing by musicians practicing for a recital or dancers stretching and talking in the hallway in the few weeks he had been here. He decided to walk down the hallway, unsure if he was actually interested in where the music was coming from, or if he was looking for an excuse not to return to the darkroom for a bit. 

 

The first floor was strictly film photography processing and printing, and classical dancing. The first few doors he had peered into only revealed to him dark, empty rooms. As he neared the end of the corridor before the bathrooms, he noticed one of the door’s viewing panels was illuminated, the music growing louder as he got close. He peered into it, immediately hypnotized by what he saw.

 

A man, who he guessed was around his age, was dancing, stretching his leg far out into the air before smoothly lowering it, his arms arching above his head as he flowed into another position, his entire body held up on the tips of his toes. His abdomen was visible, the loose gray sweater he wore serving more as a crop top than anything. Meanwhile, tight, black ballet leggings wrapped his lower half. He was beautiful, and Yuri couldn’t pull himself away from the fluid manner in which his muscles pulled and moved his body to the classical music. If Yuri focused enough, he’d probably be able to guess what track he was practicing to, Yuri having briefly become involved with ballet back in Japan when he was younger. 

 

He hadn’t realized the music had stopped, the man in the room having noticed him. He had a quizzical look on his face as he waved, Yuri yelping before taking a step back, retreating to the wall space beside the door. The door opened moments later, Yuri’s anxiety kicking in at the realization that he was about to have to explain his weird actions. Maybe if he just sprinted out, they wouldn’t notice. 

 

“Hi there,” the man said, leaning against the open door, his arms crossed in front of his chest. An accent wrapped around his words, but Yuri was unable to tell from where it originated from. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Yuri replied, his eyes trying their hardest not to look at the man standing close to him.

 

“For what?” 

 

“I-I was staring. And you were practicing by yourself. It was a breach of privacy.” Yuri stammered, unsure what to say. He felt like a pervert confessing. 

 

A laugh caused him to look at the stranger, Yuri’s eyebrows furrowing. Was he messing with him? 

 

“It’s okay,” the stranger affirmed, meeting Yuri’s gaze with his own, “You enjoyed my dancing, and you wanted to watch. That’s what dancing is for. Although, I did mess up a few times, so I’m a bit embarrassed if you caught that.” 

 

 _“_ I didn’t notice.” Yuri replied, the blue eyes that were staring at him causing a blush to warm his cheeks. 

 

“Are you a dancer?” He asked, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly. 

 

Yuri shook his head. 

 

“That’s why you didn’t notice.” 

 

Although his voice was still cheerful, the statement was sharp. 

 

“You’re probably right.” 

 

“What’s your name, by the way?” the man asked, moving away from the door to the opposite wall facing Yuri. Yuri felt a twinge of regret for having his own damn curiosity lead him into interrupting this man. He could have continued to practice, and Yuri could have focused on printing. He was just being a burden at this point.

 

“Yuri Katsuki.” He said, still trying to work off saying his full name whenever someone asked. He had realized soon after arriving that it wasn’t common in the United States, or at least in New York. 

 

“I’m Victor,” the man replied, offering him an honest smile. 

 

“I’m still sorry for interrupting you.” Yuri mentioned, fidgeting with one of the buttons on his coat. 

 

“You don’t have to apologize, I was planning on finishing up anyway.” 

 

Yuri was unsure of what to say, his gaze dropping to the floor by his feet. He pressed his teeth into his bottom lip, the urge to just _leave_ overwhelming him. 

 

“What are you doing here so late, anyway?” 

 

“I was printing, I’m a photography student.”

 

“Really? That’s cool.” 

 

Yuri glanced up, Victor’s voice sounding _awed_. 

 

“Is there a darkroom here?” 

 

Yuri nodded, amused at the fact that the man in front of him was suddenly acting like an excited child. 

 

“I’ve only seen them in movies, if I finish up here could you show me it?” 

 

Yuri felt the blush already present on his cheeks worsen into a deeper shade of red as he nodded, Victor quickly heading back into the room he was in before. 

 

 _What am I doing,_ he thought to himself, Victor emerging a few moments after. He had a duffel bag resting against his hip as he smiled at Yuri.

 

“Good to go.” 

 

“It’s right down the hall.” Yuri stated, walking back towards the darkroom. Victor decided instead of walking behind him, he’d walk _beside_ him, their hands dangerously close to bumping into one another. Yuri became hyper aware of everything he was doing, from how loud he was breathing to the space he took in between each step.  

 

 _Why did he have to notice me,_ he thought, mortified at the attention he was receiving. 

 

Once Yuri turned into the darkroom his nerves eased up a bit. At least now he was in a space he had grown comfortable in. Victor placed his bag down on the table in the corner of the room, glancing around the space after. The room was cluttered, random posters and pictures pinned to the walls. Some students had decided to paint and scribble quotes and nonsense into the available space, Yuri’s favorite having been _it’s not so bad in the dark_ written in pencil above the doorway _._

 

“Do you spend a lot of time here?” Victor asked, glancing around the room. His attention was scattered, curious blue eyes flickering between all the images plastered on the walls. 

 

“Printing takes a while, so yeah.”

 

“Can you show me how to print?” 

 

Yuri gulped, turning away from Victor to look at the test strip he had pinned on the board earlier. 

 

“I can finish this print with you.” He replied, his voice shaky. He heard Victor’s footsteps as he neared him, the taller man standing beside Yuri. He glanced down, Victor’s white sneakers contrasting starkly against Yuri’s black slip ons. 

 

 _He must have switched out of his ballet shoes,_ he thought, using any excuse to divert his attention away from the actual photograph. Having someone look at his photographs while he was printing stirred up insecurities in Yuri that he couldn’t help but be unable to hide. 

 

“Is this your boyfriend?” Victor asked, his eyes intently focused on the photo. 

 

“N-no,” Yuri stammered, his voice louder than he would have preferred, “He’s just my friend. I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

 

“Hm.” Victor responded, turning away from the photo and wavering over towards the darkened entrance to the space with the individual darkrooms. 

 

“Is it like the movies, with the red light?” 

 

Yuri couldn’t help but laugh, walking over towards Victor and past him into the darkened area. Victor followed, Yuri guiding him to the door of the room he was using. 

 

“Okay so, the rooms tend to be really small on the inside. And there’s no light.”

 

“I think that’s why they’re called darkrooms.” 

 

Yuri shot Victor a look, Victor responding by raising his hands in the air in front of his chest defensively, his lips twisting into a grin. 

 

 _He’s cute,_ Yuri thought, pushing the door open.

 

“Oh, you can’t take out your phone or anything, okay? Absolutely no light.”

 

“Alright.” Victor replied. 

 

The two of them disappeared into the dark as the door closed behind them, Yuri immediately jumping back into his usual groove. There was enough space in the room that Victor and him weren’t bumping into one another, but Yuri could hear Victor’s breathing, and vice versa. It made the hairs lining the back of his neck stand, a nervous, yet excited chill running down his spine.

 

 _Calm down,_ he thought, _you literally just met him._

 

“So, what are you doing?” 

 

Victor’s accent sounded _softer_ in the darkness, the seemingly disembodied voice causing another chill to dart down Yuri’s spine.

 

“To print a photo,” Yuri started, “you have to color correct it, the one you saw outside was too yellow. So, you come back in here, fix the values of the colors, and print another strip. I’m just printing the final print.” 

 

Suddenly, Victor was standing closer, his hand reaching out to touch the projection of the photo on the enlarger’s base. His side was pressed against Yuri’s, and the contact lit Yuri’s senses on fire.

 

“This is really cool, Yuri.” He stated, his words soaked in wonder. 

 

“I don’t think it is.” Yuri replied, reaching over Victor’s arm to shut off the projection. Once again, the two were engulfed by complete darkness. 

 

“What’s the next step?”

 

Victor’s voice just did something to him. 

 

“Y-you have to take out a sheet of paper from your box and project the photo on it.”

 

“That’s why we’re in the dark, right?” Victor continued, and Yuri could swear that the words were whispered into his ear, “Because of the paper?” 

 

“The photo is light sensitive, yeah.” 

 

How Yuri managed to not _die_ while printing the portrait of Leo was a miracle to him. Once they were out of the actual cramped darkroom into the printing room, where all Yuri had to do was slide the paper into the machine and wait 10 minutes for it to actually come out, Victor seemed to tease him whenever he could. The two were sitting down at the only table in the room, Yuri showing Victor other photos he had taken on his laptop. Victor would comment on the bright colors or ask about the people in them, meanwhile Yuri tried not to focus too hard on the fact that their knees were touching or the fact that he noticed Victor peering at him from the corner of his eyes while he switched from photo to photo. While his laptop loaded the next photo, he saw the numbers 3:00 a.m. in the corner of the screen.

 

“How come you haven’t gone home yet?” Yuri asked.

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Victor asked back, his eyebrows furrowing. 

 

Yuri shook his head, waving his hands in the air.

 

“No, that isn’t it. I was just asking because it’s late. You don’t have to be up early?” 

 

Victor stretched one arm out flat on the table, resting his head on it, his eyes looking up at Yuri. The cheek resting against the arm was pressed up, making it look like Victor was pouting.

 

“I’m off tomorrow, thankfully.”

 

“Hm.” Yuri responded, the blush he wasn’t aware had disappeared returning to his cheeks. 

 

“Hey, Yuri.” Victor uttered, the tone undoubtedly leading up to a question.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Why are you so nervous?”

 

The question caught him off guard, Yuri taking the fact that his print was most likely done as an excuse to stand up and put some space between them. 

 

“I’m not nervous,” he called out, returning with the finished product in his hands, “I’m just…distracted.” 

 

Victor motioned to see the print and Yuri complied after making sure the colors were correct in the light. The way Victor held the print gingerly, like he could ruin it from staring too hard, made Yuri chuckle a little. 

 

“You’re a good photographer.” Victor commented, handing Yuri the print back. 

 

“I don’t think so, but thank you.” Yuri responded. 

 

He took a few steps away from Victor towards his binder placed by the board, sliding the new print in. 

 

“I’m just going to pick up and go, I don’t know if you want to wait.” 

 

“I’ll wait.” Victor replied, a yawn slipping from his lips after. 

 

 _What does he want from me?_ Yuri thought, quickly shutting the printing machine off and placing all his belongings away into his locker. Once he was ready to go, Victor stood up, following him out of the room. The moment they stepped outside of the building, Victor was the first to speak up. 

 

“Do you live nearby?” 

 

Yuri nodded, motioning towards his right, “I live three blocks down that way in the new apartments.” 

 

“Ah,” Victor replied, “I live in the opposite direction. I guess this is where we part.” 

 

Yuri nodded, ready to say goodbye and mentally preparing to never see this man again out of sheer embarrassment and anxiety, when Victor pulled his phone out. 

 

“Put your number in my phone, and I’ll put mine in yours.”

 

“O-okay.” 

 

Yuri stared at the phone placed in his shaking hands, giving it back with his number and name once Victor was done with his own phone. 

 

“Goodnight, then.” 

 

“Goodnight, Yuri Katsuki.” Victor said, his lips twisting into a smile as the name now in his phone rolled off his lips. 

 

Yuri nodded before pivoting on his heels, stalking off to his apartment. 

 

_Goodnight, Yuri Katsuki._

 

One of his hands reached out to his face, a finger tip gently tracing the smile that had emerged. Victor saying his full name sounded so _smooth,_ it made Yuri nearly want to faint. He turned his attention to his phone, swiping it open to scroll through his contracts. He passed his family and friends and finally landed on the name he was looking for. 

 

 _Victor, the dancer_. 

 

The name made him laugh, sliding his phone back into his pocket. The blend of anxiety and tension that had kept him on edge the whole night became something else, a giddiness he had forgotten replacing the negative emotions. 

 

 _Victor the dancer, huh?_ Yuri thought to himself, shaking his head in disbelief at the utter cheesiness as he neared his apartment building’s entrance. Once he was inside the building he pressed on the name twice before crafting a text message. 

 

_Made it home._

 

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Yuri pushed open the door leading to the stairs, making his way up to his apartment. By the time he was inside his bedroom, shoes off and sweat pants snug against his waist, his phone vibrated on his nightstand. Yuri reached for the phone at a faster speed than he’d like to admit, the corner of his lips twitching up into a faint smile. Victor had sent him a photo of his ceiling, one of his hands forming a peace sign in the corner of the frame.

 

_Sweet dreams, Yuri._


End file.
